Quicksilver
by Chibi Haku
Summary: (Rated for themes.)
1. Chapter 1

Dark.

Cold dark alone desolate ice water freezing sleepy dead.

Mostly dark.

The stillness that echoed around him was all of these things, and more, as he floated upon the great expanse of Mercury. Was it quicksilver? For though it was too dark to see, he had a feeling that the material he was gently floating on was not at all grey. Maybe a light blue, etched in a metallic way, though that could merely be because all glimpses that he had had of it, were in the light of a blue bolt of electricity, rising to the surface and crackling up, up, until its connection was severed and it instantly sizzled out, leaving him alone in darkness once more.

He had tried to move, only to discover that his limbs in reality were quite fixed to where he was floating, the liquid metal had wrapped around his legs and arms, and even, almost warningly about his throat, preventing his movement. And then, the temperature had started to drop.

His eyes drifted closed, as another of the blue lightning bolts crackled to life very close to him this time, accompanied by a soft gurgling noise that he had come to recognise as bubbles breaking the surface of his liquid suspension. He shuddered to think what would happen if...

"Fullmetal! Fullmetal one!" A voice, ice cold and familiar, breaking the pristine silence all around him. "FULLMETAL! WAKE UP!"

His world changed in a moment as his eyes flew open, and he plunged into a world of light. He gasped at his sudden disposition in another world, blinking several times to grow accustomed to the glow of the lantern above him. He groaned. He had fallen asleep over his work again.

_He_ was in actual fact, a young man of 15 years, with blonde hair, unusually long for a male and tied back into a plait that hung loosely down onto his red cloak, hooded and with long sleeves. His eyes were nearly the same gold as his hair, though they were more the clear colour of a light ale than the sun-kissed straw that framed his face. And he was short.

Very short. He stood around 5 foot 4 inches and was continually treated as a young child because of this fact, though his immature and hot-headed reaction to someone's mockery of this, only served to enhance this image. With a groan, he gently sat up from where he had quite literally fallen asleep on his book, the pages sticking ever so slightly to the side of his face as he did so. He turned his head, blinking sleepy eyes at the person who had woken up, before scowling at having been caught napping by this particular human.

At first glance, the man just seemed a standard human being, with a black, well styled hair cut, and eyes that were dangerously narrow in shape, without trying. He had strong features, and the beginnings of frown lines were starting to mark those strong features, well before such lines should. He was dressed, however, in the strangest uniform, blue, with golden trimmings, and a strange fold-over collar with fastenings to hold it in place. He had a gold rope draped over his right shoulder, which fastened on one side, looped once and clipped on again around back. This man reeked military importance and sophistication, and was the bane of our protagonist's life.

His name was Roy Mustang. The man everyone knew for his fetish for miniskirts, and his military aspirations.

Our protagonist, however, blinked with still sleep fogged eyes, registering nothing, but a severe dislike for the man who had woken him up. Manifesting enough energy to glare at the man, he felt his eyes beginning to droop again and he rested his head on the table once more, only to have cold air blown across his neck in an attempt to maintain his revival. Once again, the boy shot a glare at his superior, before groggily sitting up, and giving up any chance of sleep he might still have had. He did not question the oddity of his superior's strange behaviour, though somewhere the fact that the man had blown upon his neck in an effort to wake him was stored for deliberation later.

"Hagane, what are you doing?" The man asked, using the boy's military name to address him. It was something the boy was used to however, and did not let himself get fazed as he forced his sleep addled brain to take in his surroundings. He was no longer in the pool of liquid, the dream still lingering on the edge of his conscious thoroughly confusing his view of where he was. He didn't remember coming to a small room, with stacks of research books piled around him, blocking his view of a partially open door, which led onto a room filled with shelves and many more books. The door that Roy Mustang must have definitely come through.

He sighed, finally addressing the man alongside him in the room. "What does it look like I was doing, Colonel Bastard?" He commented rather waspishly. He was never in the best of moods after just waking up, and this was no exception. Especially seeing as he had not been getting much sleep lately. All the sleep he had had contained dreams where he floated on an endless sea of water, lightning flashing about him, and darkness all about, if he could get to sleep in the first place.

The cheery juxta positioning of the Colonel did nothing to help matters either. He reflected glumly on that fact for a moment, and then came to the conclusion that Roy was only happy, because he had caught him napping. Roy was definitely the type of person you didn't show weakness in front of.

"Why it looked like you were taking your afternoon nap, Fullmetal." The man replied, a smirk upon his face.

"Hmph."

The boy's name was not Fullmetal, of course, no one would give their son that title as a child, it was the name he had been given by the military upon his pass of the state alchemist tests which were held once a year, to distinguish those alchemists who were good enough to become military personnel from the rest. The boy's real name was Edward. But try telling the Colonel that.

The man was smirking, however, as Edward groggily got to his feet, stretching the tired bones of his spine, and trying to get a painful crick out of his neck. His movement had brought his clothing into view, and whilst he was a military dog, he did not wear the uniform, instead, black leather pants that hung only ever so slightly off his legs, a black tank top, under a jacket (Black once again, but with white strips down its side, and a silver fastener) and a brilliant scarlet cloak. His boots were midnight with red soles, and were a rather large design, though inside they fit snugly. Once standing, the boy made no outward signs of his inward fatigue, standing straight backed and proud, for all he only came up to the Colonel's shoulder. The blonde hair that surrounded his face was slightly tousled however, and his braid was all but falling out of its binds.

"I came to send you home, Fullmetal, but seeing as you were asleep on your book it doesn't seem like the task is that important." Edward cast a wary eye at the clock within the room, discovering that it was well past midnight, and that, indeed, he should have been home in bed, instead of asleep on a book.

"Hmph." He stated again, rather bluntly, before shuffling out of the room. Behind him, the man with the black hair smirked. "You're beginning to fall asleep all over the place." He snorted almost disturbingly merrily. Edward wisely made no indication that he had heard, so the man frowned ever so slightly before continuing. "One assumes it's because your short legs have ever such a hard time keeping up."

The usually guaranteed jibe failed however, as for once, Ed refused to rise to the bait, his eyes drifting ever so slightly narrower as he stalked off, leaving Roy so surprised he had to stop a moment, before blinking twice. It was a well known fact that Edward very rarely _didn't_ let his emotions of rage show when that particular insecurity complex was rattled, but the boy had just walked off.

Either Edward was starting to mature, or the boy really was exhausted. Roy strongly suspected the second. "Edward?" The man's voice was surprisingly soft, which was what caused Edward to stop and turn in wonder. "Take tomorrow off, and get some sleep."

Edward shook his head disbelievingly and left the library.

* * *

Some time later, slowly, ever so slowly, golden eyes cracked open once more upon the world of the living, this time, in a warm bed, wrapped in the heavenly feeling of plush-soft blankets, and the quiet buzz of a ceiling fan overhead. The sun was now up, and was peeking through the large window in such a way that a bright glare reflected off metal and straight into Edward's eyes. Squinting, Edward sat up, shifting his face away from the glare coming from the object he held in his right hand, or rather, from his hand itself.

The robotic appendage clenched angrily, as Edward shuffled out of the bed, preparing to go to have a shower, and not bothering to spend time studying the intricate design of plates and wires that made up his right arm, and the majority of his left leg. They were reminders in a sense, of a sin that he and his brother had committed once, though he had to say he believed he had gotten off easier, though it was his fault. After all, he hadn't lost his whole body, whereas his brother had.

He squashed the guilt. He was beginning to get very good at that.

A wide yawn threatened to escape him as he wandered over to the bathroom, to one side of the small double bedroom, a cot on either wall of the room. "Al! Al!" He called, using a louder tone than he usually would, but one that ensured his voice carried throughout the small living space that they had been provided with. "Alphonse!" He nearly demanded, pulling off his shirt with a sigh, as a blast of cool air hit him from the fan above.

"Brother! You're awake!" he heard a young, slightly metallic voice call from one room over, as he stepped into the bathroom to shower for the day. He smiled. His brother had survived the separation from his body, because of Ed's sacrifice of his arm, a sacrifice he hadn't once regretted. Now, however, his brother's soul was encased in a suit of armour, quite intimidating at first glance, but Al was really a soft hearted boy, who wouldn't hurt a fly. And though much taller, Alphonse was a year younger than his shorter sibling. Of course, Al didn't have disturbing dreams in which he was floating upon a sea of potentially lethal mercury; at least, Ed didn't think he did.

He had never asked, just as he didn't tell his brother of the dreams he had. What happened in your head was private.

Sighing, Ed stepped into the bathroom, and began whistling a tuneless melody as the hot spray of the water hit his body.

* * *

_Well... when I started writing this fic, it was before I caught a few things about scar in the show, which have changed my original presumptions. However, the plot bunnies are still egging me on to complete this, so I shall, even if it's not what I think anymore._

_To tell you the truth, I had completely forgotten about this fic until I found it gathering dust on my Deviantart account, and that was only the first chapter... X.x_

_Also, if you read this, I'm warning you: Angst is most definitely my specialty, and I like well placed and emotional character death within context._

_Sorry bout that._


	2. Chapter 2

Gold glistening strands flickered through the air, catching the sun with ever just that sparkle that attracts eyes and admirers, like a prize diamond. Through the frosted windowpane and the state of the art water heater nestled soundly behind it, the sun still managed to peek in and catch this amazing sight in all its beauty. Wet skin glistened, and was hastily rubbed clean and free of this ethereal image before it was quickly covered in black linen, and hands (one pale and slightly pink, the other a hard, cold steel) reached up and grabbed the flyaway gossamer of hair and tucked it neatly into three evenly grouped strands.

Weaving in and out, over one another in a dance these strands moved, until they had formed a thick, rope-like braid, still dripping with the water pumped from overhead only mere minutes ago. Crystal clear eyes slid open, as a small 'twang' announced the hand releasing a small, ductile hair tie that flung into its place, holding the spider thread strength hair in place.

Disrupting the peace, almost, Edward yawned, a loud, punctuating sound that normally would not have been associated with him if not for his near exhausted state. He reached over to the small wash basin by the military's new shower design (Gone were the days of buckets with holes in them), to grab his pair of gloves, folded quite meticulously and placed ever so gently down, by Al, no doubt, Ed never had the patience with little things.

He slipped the gloves gently on, and began adding the finishing touches to his morning routine, the teeth, and the slight layer of concealing dust (favoured by females) below his eyes, just to hide the bags present there. He waited quietly for Al's standard call of "Brother! You're going to be late if you don't come now!" But it never came. Intrigued, Ed slipped out of the cramped bathroom, and peered down the hallway, where Al's cold, metallic body stood, hunched over a small telephone, a recent and most wondrous invention, in Edward's eyes. "Yes sir." His brother mumbled into the receiver of the black device, his shoulders stooped and cramped, as if the hallway was too small to accommodate his build. "No sir." Came another mumbled reply, after a pause, and Ed guessed who it was that his brother was speaking to.

"How high was that again sir?" He mumbled under his breath, turning to the living room and a soft couch, falling on it in half a daze. His anecdote, strange if one doesn't know the background, earned him a glare from his brother, though how exactly a metal suit could glare puzzled him. Sometimes, Ed wondered if he just imagined that Al pulled facial expressions, for surely it was impossible?

"Yes. Thankyou sir. Good day." Gently, the receiver was placed back into its cradle, the hulky form of Alphonse turning to face his shorter brother. The hard face of the armour with its sharp angles was what he had come to hate on Alphonse, not at all like the soft, round boy he had been. Ed had to hold his scowl tightly. "The Colonel rang."

Edward nodded. He had guessed as much. The man who expected everyone to ask 'how high?' when he told them to jump. Ed couldn't hold his scowl back this time, as he thought with ever so slight a tint of malice about that particular smug face.

"He told me to tell you to stay home today."

Another nod. _Sure..._ That was going to happen. Edward had heard that snow was forecasted in hell any day now.

"He told me to make sure you stayed home today."

Edward nearly let out a snort of laughter, but he caught himself at the last minute. He didn't want his brother's feelings hurt. Al gripped onto his white and blue apron self consciously.

"I'm sorry about this, Brother." The last thing Edward saw, a moment before he blacked out was a black metal fist heading towards the side of his face.

* * *

Cold chasm alone frightened abyss nightmare hatred fear and a smirking face appearing out of the dazzling brightness around him one he only half recognised with a rugged beard and shadowed eyes before it too dissolved and crumbled into light.

And of course the brightness was not to be disturbed with a petty thing like darkness so dazzling that it almost appeared that he died when as suddenly as the brightness had come, it left him alone, and ever further away from that grip on the truth held just above his head. Sizzle sizzle static and a crackle and a pop, his only warning before blue lightning flocculated out from liquid just between his legs, shooting up, spiralling, blinding him with it's glare, and making him it's possession with it's heat and deadly hum. Flickering just before his eyes, as he desperately closed them, trying to protect himself in one little way; however the complete immobility he was wrapped in prevented such an action spectacularly.

A flash of red shone through his eyelids a moment before they snapped open, searing pain encompassing his body as one of the forks scraped his side, rearing away like a frightened horse and turning a bright crimson almost to reflect the pain it had caused, and it seemed it caused itself before spiralling away, causing the whole of the lightning beam to turn a brilliant magenta before it sizzled out. Pain, pain, encompassing his body and filling him to the backs of his eyes with hissing, burning uncomfortable pain, almost as if he was being cooked from inside out, and then it all stopped.

Eyes flew open, disorientation set in, and Edward Elric forced from his memory the exact ruby red that the lightning had been.

* * *

**A/N**

_Okay, sorry about that last bit. I get kinda carried away when it comes to semi-steam of conscious._

_This fic has yet to be Beta-ed, so I will repost this, and the first chapter once that has happened. I'm impatient, and I only told my betas that I had given them the job this morning. _

_Little note: The computer spell check wants to change Elric to Erica. Don't trust computers kids, it's not good for you._

_Thanks to my reviewers so far. I seriously didn't expect to get much of a response to this fic. Bear with me, the beginning is slow, and the action is yet to start. _

_Also, **kitten-chan**, I'm frenchiette on Deviantart, if you want to look me up, and **bride-of-lister, **no, I didn't know, that, thanks!_

_Even though I should have, seeing as I'm a year 11 chem student. X.x_

_Thanks again to my reviewers. Replying individually, unless there's a question takes up so much space and time, but thanks to all you guys for reviewing. -gives cookies-_

_And if anyone wants to apply for a beta position, I'm always looking for more. Post a review saying that you want to, and I'll email my drafts to you. _


	3. Chapter 3

_Well, the muse has, in a word, vacated. My holidays are now over, and it's back to studying full time, and the poor boy really doesn't like that kind of stress. (Yes, Boy.) Which means my brain has turned to mush as to how to continue this wretched plotline. I know where I want to GO and I know how I want it to END it's just filling in the gaps that's the problem. ANYWAYS, I'll try._

* * *

.

* * *

Drip.... Drip... Drip...

Steady, meaningful and slow, the gentle drip of the sink off to the side of the small bathroom, itself connected to the small two bed room, gently encouraged Edward Elric to return slowly to his surroundings. Disorientation slowly disappearing.

Golden eyes flew open in a scowl, directed towards the innocent tap contained within the tiled recesses. Dark features grimaced as pain finally registered to the side of a pale face, and tingles danced spider-like up his side. Neither was nowhere near as excruciating as the boiling, burning, bubbling heat that came with the dream, or the fear and pain and scent of burning flesh, rather, they were uncomfortable.

"ALLLLL!!!!!!!!!" Anger glittered in gold dusted orbs as Edward remembered the 'how and why' of what had put him into a delusional dream. Though if it could truly be called a dream he did not know or understand, for dreams were not meant to be painful, but pleasant. He growled low in his throat, realising that his brother had, indeed, intended for him to stay home and in bed, for he was once again dressed in his pyjamas instead of his clothes.

After his call, he could have sworn he felt the whole house, whole neighbourhood even, flinch with fear at his formidable temper.

Sheets went flying off the bed, as in a haste, Fullmetal leapt out of the bed, and down the stairs two at a time. Thud thud thud thud and thud. And there Al was, sitting sheepish on the end of the couch, and Ed felt his anger melt slightly. Only slightly.

"I'm sorry, Brother, the colonel was quite forceful." Were the first words out of his brother's mouth. Edward scowled, rubbing the side of his face gently. No doubt he'd have a bruise soon.

In reply to his brother, Edward said nothing, instead, he moved over to the kitchen, where a pot of coffee was slowly brewing.

"Brother! You are still talking to me, aren't you?" Al sounded slightly worried at the prospect that his brother would be cruel enough to ignore him, after such a small thing as a punch to the side of the head.

Edward bit back a growl of 'no', and instead whispered, "Of course I am... but you did punch me, Alphonse." Which in itself indicated how thoroughly infuriated Edward was. He never called his brother by his full name, unless he was worried, or incredibly angry with the aforementioned.

Al visibly flinched.

"But brother, I only did it because the colonel said to keep you at home no matter what!" Al pleaded, trying to get the blonde boy's head to turn, so that he could look him in the eyes. The red back was rigid and tense, signs of sleep depravation and anger.

* * *

Edward sighed, for once, wishing his brother would stop talking. Abandoning the coffee in a furtive search for painkillers, for the dull throb in his side and his head, he shuffled determinedly through the cupboards and drawers.

"I'm going in anyway." He muttered under his breath, knowing that once he took the painkillers he would be fine, and most likely that a certain bastard of a colonial would have a mission for him. Maybe that was all he needed, a break from it all, and the dreams would stop, and he could finally get on with a non-sleep deprived life. He sighed, knowing how incredibly unlikely it was that a dream that could cause him pain (He still remembered the exact level of excruciating said pain was) would stop at a small break away.

"Brother?" Al's childish, and tinny voice sounded from the living room, a tinge worried and desperate.

Having finally located the pain killers in the cutlery drawer ("Why the hell were they in THERE?") and taking three with a glass of water, Edward finally turned to face his younger brother.

The large suit of armour held itself in a distinctly worried position, the horn on his head trembling ever so slightly. Edward forced himself to look into the harsh features of his brother's face once more. "I'm going to work." He flatly announced, and Al sighed, letting him past and to the door.

"Brother?" He heard when he was at the door, his right hand on the knob, and not feeling any of the texture up from his prosthetic limb. He ignored the call, instead opening the door and walking out into the cold winter air.

* * *

Colonel Mustang was what you would call a resourceful man. He had a larger spy network than that of the national department for such business, he had time off, and he had the most powerful and skilled alchemist known under his direct command. Which is why he was reasonably smug. He was allowed to be.

However, smugness and resourcefulness aside, he was also incredibly lazy. Which is why, when first lieutenant Risa Hawkeye came to give him paperwork, he put on every excuse in the book to get out of them. Unfortunately for the Colonel, Risa had read 'the book', and she had memorised every page.

This was why he could be found, on a Thursday afternoon in the middle of winter bent over his desk, reading and signing leaf upon leaf of paper and searching for a distraction. And when he found one, he was most displeased.

There was a loud crash as his door swung open, inducing his head to snap up, storm black eyes immediately fixed upon the mop of messy gold hair storming into his office and throwing itself down upon one of his two leather couches. The peach skin directly below this had a slightly pinched look, and was ever so rosy from the brisk cold outside the warmed office. Gold eyes met his with a glare, and black, leather clad legs were crossed, in the very picture of arrogance and disobedience.

His 'most powerful and skilled alchemist known' was in a bad mood, as usual, and Roy had a good inclination as to why.

"You bastard." Edward spat, glaring at the colonel, a mixture of thankfulness (That no doubt he would never admit to) and seething anger on his features.

Roy felt one eyebrow rise, and deliberately smirked at the boy, to further increase his anger. "For telling you to take the day off? Well, in future, when you ask for a sick day, you won't get it then, because obviously you don't want one." His smirk grew, as Edwards' fuse began to fray.

"No, you bastard, for telling my fucking little brother to KNOCK ME UNCONSCIOUS so I wouldn't come in today." Edward replied, trying, and failing miserably to keep a hold of his temper.

"Unconscious? Me? Tell Alphonse? When?" The feigned innocence would not work, and Roy knew it. It was strange how the colleague that you least agreed with could get to know you the best, for another just might have bought his expression.

"On the phone to him this morning you bastard."

"The phone?"

"Yes, the thing on the wall that rings and allows instantaneous communication without being face to face. Phone. P.... h... o..." Roy cut across Edward's rather sarcastic explanation.  
  
"I am aware of what a telephone is, Fullmetal." His voice was ice cold and deathly serious. "However, what I must object to is one of my subordinates coming in to work when they are clearly in no position to do so. While that gunk under your eyes may fool your brother, it does nothing to fool me."

"You don't have a clue what's best for me, Mustang." The boy replied, his eyes darkening as his secret was easily revealed. His hair sparkled like a cobweb caught in the sun, setting spectacularly behind the office, unaware of the clash of egos slowly brewing within.

Roy closed his eyes, and with a small sigh, he directed the whole of his attention towards the boy. "Fullmetal, if you truly believe that you can continue to work when you are dead on your feet and literally falling asleep in front of me this very instant..." Fullmetal straightened his back and glared. "Then I have a mission for you..."

Edward flinched at the malevolent tone used.

* * *

_.  
_

* * *

_Okies, phew. That want south quite quickly, didn't it? Excuse the terribleness, but I'm trying to lighten the mood a little before the real action starts. I also thought I'd do a little preview of the next chapter._

COMING SOON:

Edward gulped, his eyes darkening as the train thudded to a stop in the dull gloom. At least two hours remained until his destination, and anger and worry flickered in his eyes, when he heard a familiar voice. "Fullmetal Alchemist, the great goddess Ishbala orders your blasphemy to be stopped."

_Hehe... Things are going to get veeeerrrry interesting soon._


	4. Chapter 4

Fear, fear and jealousy as a Green Lion rampaged and became a familiar figure with long green hair, standing in a sea of white before an ominous stone door, and funny, it doesn't look that much like a gate up close.

Chasing, chasing or was it being chased? And running rampant as the world spiralled into green and crashed about, the roar following as running, sprinting, getting away became a more plausible option than staying. Near impossible though, tripping over purple snakes as still the green lion came at him, lunged, jaws wide, and disappeared in a puff of wind.

And white. White. WHITE! Everywhere white, consuming and ensnaring and passing through the clouds on a white swan's back feathers soft and silky but no definition of sight where swan ended and cloud began until the face etched itself upon the cloud in front of him, with dark shadows, until it disappeared once more in the gentle puff of the swan's wings. A small unsettlement.

And a slip! And spiralling, spiralling downwards from the ever darkening clouds into the blackness of night and further. Landing, quite unexpectedly on the pool of quicksilver, not sinking as it rejected his presence and flew upwards once more, but long tendrils of the substance flew, wrapped themselves around him. Upwards, outwards! Over and over and clasping, groping, holding too tight! Too tight! Can't breathe! And please let go! Please! But no, they would not let go.

Not even as the lightning spiralled ever closer and closer, some blue, one red dancing, dancing around in fear of him, ever cautious. Then, they struck, ripping, tearing, biting, pain! Pain! Painpainpainpainpain! And they all spiralled away the crackle the whinny of frightened horses and more and more fled, blood red staining the beautiful blue they were.

(Brief Authors note: No, I am NOT on drugs.)

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The train gave a sudden jolt, throwing Edward out of his resting state, alert and ever watchful.

Al gasped beside him. "Brother! Your eyes!" The metal of Al's suit gleamed as Edward looked into it, seeing within the reflection of a face, pale from the nightmare, with red eyes slowly fading to orange and gold once more. Edward gasped, his hand coming up to touch his face, brushing away a rouge spider thread as he did so.

"What the...?" He blinked, trying to convince himself that he had just imagined the red.

A gleam off Al re-alerted him to his brother's presence and he stared at the enchanted armour with a dumbstruck expression. Somehow, he knew that even though that metal helm was expressionless, that his brother felt the same way inside.

"Brother... Are you alright?" Edward nodded, unable to find the voice to speak as he stared out the window into the starry night sky. After the trip into the office to confront Mustang, Edward had been immediately placed on a train to a chicken farm just outside of East city.

"_...Your mission is to watch it and look for abnormal activities. Strange reports have been coming from that area." _Edward groaned inwardly. Somehow, he had the strange impression that the colonel just wanted him out of his hair. Edward glanced around the train, trying to distract himself from the thoughts of chickens, dreams and changing eye colours, though it didn't help.

All trains are pretty much the same, even when one was in a private car. There was a chair only just soft enough to sleep on, and only if you were truly tired (Ed was, and had fallen asleep near the start of the journey) an overhead luggage rack, where his brown suitcase had been stored, and panelled wooden walls, bare of anything, and completely lacking warmth. He looked out of the window; even as the train rattled and bumped is way along the tracks and watched the scenery fly by.

"Brother?" Al's voice was slightly worried, and Edward realised he was yet to answer the other's question.

"I'm fine, Al." He replied easily, staring at his gloved left hand as if it had become very interesting. "I'm just having a hard time sleeping recently is all." There was a weary edge to Ed's voice that Al hadn't heard since the day that their mother died, as if the whole world had come crashing down around them, and that Ed had started to realise that the world wasn't as black and white as he thought. There were shades of grey.

Al sighed. His brother was far from fine, but heaven be damned if Al would get any information out of him.

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Some time had passed, and Edward glanced over at the 'sleeping' form of Alphonse. He sighed, thinking that it couldn't be that far away until dawn, and cursing his inability to return to sleep.

He felt the train's movement beneath him begin to slow, and his eyebrows crinkled together in confusion. He gulped, his eyes darkening as the train thudded to a stop in the predawn light. At least two hours remained until his destination, and anger and worry flickered throughout his whole being, when he heard a familiar voice. "Fullmetal Alchemist, the great goddess Ishbala orders your blasphemy to be stopped."

He swore, loudly, his mid quickly jumping to one conclusion. "AL! Wake up! Now!" He threw open the compartment's window, a sleepy 'gluh?' coming from somewhere behind him as he leapt out of the train. A cold wind blew past his body, quickly stealing the heat from his metal limbs. He frantically looked around, searching for some sign of the voice he knew he recognised in the grove, densely populated with trees and shrubs.

"DAMN! There's too much cover here!" Al clambered out of the window behind him, his movements slow and sleepy. "Al, keep your back to the train." He warned, his eyes darting around the grove, and not looking at his brother.

"Brother what's..."

"Shh!" Al fell quiet, Edward knew why. His tone left no room to argue. A movement! There! On the left! Edward spun, clapping his hands quickly and slamming them to the ground, causing it to rise where the movement was, and leaping out of the tree to another, a tanned man with a cross shaped scar on his forehead stared.

The man looked at Edward with his piercing red eyes, the wind blowing his yellow jacket threateningly. Edward growled low in his throat. "Scar."

'Scar' smirked. "Fullmetal Alchemist." He acknowledged with a nod, leaping down from the branch and towards the boy.

"He's coming brother!" Al cried, as Edward spun to avoid the onslaught and clapped his hands once more, slamming them into a nearby tree.

And then, something most peculiar happened. Instead of the normally blue sparks that would fly when Ed preformed alchemy, red swarmed from the end of his metal limb and struck the ground. It trembled, and Ed was encompassed by fear. Was it possible that his alchemy could run out of control?

Scar yelled, and Edward spun, Al shook with fear. The Ishbal was holding his right hand as if it was in great pain, the muscles flexing uncontrollably, and the tattooed marks that covered it began to glow a strange ruby red. Something seemed to grip Edward, the wind suddenly changing direction, and pulling, pulling him in the direction of Scar's hand. Fear encompassed him, as Al and his surroundings seemed unaffected. It was only him that was being drawn! "Al, help me!"

"BROTHER!" Al threw a metal arm forward; catching Ed's outstretched hand as the wind grew so strong as to sweep the petit alchemist off his feet. "Don't worry, Brother, I won't let go!"

Fear was in Edward's eyes as he looked into Al's armour, and saw there, not his reflection, but his father's face, for a brief instant until it flashed and was gone again. The band flew out of his hair, and it all spiralled free, flying everywhere and tangling into knots which would be impossible to get out in the morning, if he lived past this point in his life. Tears of fear greater than anything Edward had ever known welled in his eyes, and were whipped by the wind towards Scar.

As soon as they struck the hand, Scar yelled in pain, and the wind died, The Ishbal man running away from the scene. Edward collapsed, feeling both physically and mentally drained, and panting hard. "What just happened, Al?" He asked, feeling the beginnings of blackness surrounding him. "What just happened? What's happening to me?"

"I... Don't know, Brother. Maybe Scar's just learnt a new way to use his arm? And he tried it on you?"

Edward remembered the fear in the tanned man's eyes as his arm swept Ed off his feet. His eyes slid closed.

Somehow, Ed doubted that that was any 'new technique.'

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_Ooohh... Nasty, short chapter. Haku doesn't like this, that she doesn't. Haku promises to make the next chapter much longer._

_So, who's figured out what's going on yet? I'd like to see a big raise of hands people. Come on, I practically gave it away!_

_I bet a lot of people are wondering about the dreams and going: WTF???? Well, see, that's where a bit of research would come in handy, you guys. Every single reference in the dreams has symbolic reference, and I'm going to post a list of the symbols I used once this fic is done. Which is about 3 chapters away. That's right; it's all down hill from here._

_Anyways, feed a hungry Authoress? -Points at review box-_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/n: Yo!_

_Random rabid reviewers: YOU'REEEEE LAAAAAATTTTTEEEE!!!! TT_

_O.o -has tomatoes thrown at her- Heh. Sorry about the lateness of this fic. It's rather hard writing this at the moment, but I'm trying. The fact that I recently went on a Naruto high and watched 117 episodes straight with no sleep and only breaks for food doesn't help either._

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FLASH!  
Red  
FLASH!  
Blue  
FLASH!  
Green  
FLASHFLASHFLASHFLASH  
Swirls of colour so dazzling and stunning and beautiful, and is that black? What is that shape? A beautiful and stunning queen in a bright robe and a golden crown sitting upon her forehead, and dissolving into the multitude of rainbows and colours and gentle splishes of rain on a dreary day. Switching now, switching clearly to sunshine, bright sunshine, and a face, feminine, fine, fastidious, familiar. Beautiful, but plain at the same time, warm, and lost and distant and with long brown hair, and just a touch of lipstick, not much, after all, who is Trishia going to impress in a small town?  
FLASH!  
Yellow and warm and strong and kind, and arms wrapping about his frame in something that he can't quite remember. Contact without coldness, without the small tang of metal touching the air, infecting his nose. Small arms, warm arms, beautiful, kind, yet strangely meek, almost as if too afraid to grip tightly, as he just might shove away. "Brother..."  
FLASH!  
PURPLE! SCREAMS! DARKNESS! NO! Anything but this! Anything in the swirl of colour! Please no! Please! But it's there, the darkness, the fear, the cold eyes of truth staring down at him in a way that judged and held him, and dazzling white again, and slipping away from him. "Noooo!" Nowhere near perfect. Nowhere. No.

And it's drifting away, drifting slowly, as a male peacock strutted his glory and fanned the bright _colores_ he contained in short, staggered bursts Each accompanied with a dazzling flash and though time moved forward development flew backwards, and there was something important, something he couldn't quite grasp in any of the static dances the peacock would present. A deafening roar.

And he knew that roar and feared it, feared the green lion as it soared over his head and ripped at the Peacocks neck, spilling entrails across the ground, as if afraid of what it could reveal to him, if not had revealed already. And blood dripping, dripping a scarlet red stain on the green around him, the lion turned, eyed him down, held him in the upmost contempt preparing to lunge...

"Brother..." A voice... soft, interrupting, gripping, attack! Blast! Get rid of! The stages are not through! Progression! Need progression! "BROTHER! WHAT ARE YOU!" The lion's roar covered the end of the statement, matching the yell that issued from his mouth, and the lion continued its onslaught. It leapt over the coils of the purple snake with ease, aiming for his jugular, and changing, moulding to a copy of himself, and then swiftly becoming a shadowed face, outlined in the bright white light and disappearing, in a rush of feathers.

White feathers! White everywhere, the swan dancing about him, and helping him scale a white mountain, even up into the clouds, and even though they were in their thousands, not a drop of rain tarnished the white cotton wool, except in one small area which came as soon as it went, even as he reached, reached and slipped as the mountain transformed suddenly into a black toad the size of a sky scraper, belching up ravens and black feathers, and the grey clouds face was swept away once more, leaving a trail of black soot in it's wake.

And the soot widened, widened into a realm of everlasting blackness, and with no foothold he fell, fell into the now-too-familiar expanse of mercury, as red lightning danced and swirled, only one blue bolt remaining, and he cringed aware of the pain coming, and gritting his teeth, he bore it as it struck...

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"FULLMETAL!"

Edward's eyes snapped open.

The charcoal haired man in front of him was glaring darkly. "Did you know," Roy Mustang snapped, his presence on the train unexpected, "That you can do alchemy in your sleep?"

"What are you doing here, Colonel?" He asked, his eyes still wishing to close in exhaustion and the desire to sleep. He couldn't bring himself to insult the man who was scowling in front of him.

"Alphonse, may I speak to your brother in private for a moment?" The colonel asked, showing a surprising amount of tact. Edward turned his eyes towards where his brother was... attached... to the wall of the carriage. "If he would be so kind as to let you go first?" Edward let out a gasp.

"Al! I'm so sorry!" Edward yelped, flying up, his braid flopping behind him, one strand of yellow straw being left behind, caught in a spider's thread. Clapping his hands swiftly, he released his brother from where he was stuck, lodged between the luggage rack, and the leather seat. For a brief moment, Edward saw a human imprinted over the metal suit, smiling at him, as Alphonse gave a small, tinny laugh.

"It's alright, Brother, you were asleep." The enchanted metal form clanked its way out of the compartment, the boy's superior taking the now empty seat. The man seemed almost surprised at the fact the leather was still cool.

Mustang opened his mouth to speak, but the sharp eyed boy beat him to it. "What are you doing here?" He snapped, his features set in a cold mask. The man across from him gave a small smirk.

"Your brother reported what happened between yourself and scar to me, as soon as he was back inside the train, Fullmetal. Unlike a certain short alchemist we all know, he did not immediately pass out."

Edward's vision was filled with a fine, red mist at that moment. "WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL THAT THEY CAN BEFRIEND A MOUSE IN ITS HOLE???" A crackle of energy flew down his left arm, and a red bolt shot up from it. Anger calmed to confusion in an instant. "What the..?"

"And there is what I must talk to you about, Fullmetal." The smirk melted away from Mustang's face, as he stared into Edward's eyes in all seriousness. Edward looked back, startled to see that his were red. Blood red. Roy sighed. "Speak. What is happening? You are suffering from a lack of sleep, and your alchemical response is changing colour. What is going on, Fullmetal?"

"For once the great Roy Mustang doesn't have all the answers, huh?" Edward bit out, his eyes fading to gold. He sighed with relief. "All I know, is recently, I've been having weird dreams that leave me more tired when I wake up, than when I went to sleep. That, and this other fucked up crap about my eyes, and my alchemy."

Roy nodded; a crackle of some idea or another flicking past his face. "Have you ever wondered, Fullmetal, if your dreams and the 'symptoms' you are experiencing are interrelated?"

"Of course you bastard! I'm not an idiot!" Edward snapped, his eyes flashed red again, and he gulped.

"Tell me, Fullmetal, what do your dreams contain?" The man replied not in the least fazed by his subordinates' attitude. He had to deal with it on a regular basis, after all.

Edward turned away. "That's... private."

The smirk returned to Mustang's features. "Let me guess, a raven, a toad, a peacock, a lion, a queen and a swan." Edward looked up, suddenly startled.

"How did you...?"

"Know? I have a bit of reading for you, Fullmetal." Roy tossed a book across the table, and it slid into Edward's lap. He didn't look at its title. "You are relieved from this mission, Fullmetal, due to your current inability to control your alchemy. Its unpredictability is a danger to you and those around you. Thus, you will come back to Central to be isolated to prevent this danger."

Edward looked up at him sharply. 'What? I can't do that! I..."

"Will get angry." The flame alchemist cut over the top of him. "And your alchemy will react to this anger, as happened a few minutes ago. Think, Edward, what would your enemies do if they knew that the great Fullmetal Alchemist was having trouble controlling his Alchemy?" Mustang sighed.

Edward grunted resignation, the man had a point. "One of these days, I am going to kill you for fucking my life over like this."

Mustang grinned, a dangerous grin. "I look froward to it, Fullmetal. I expect you to catch the next train into central." He stood to leave. "And Edward? Do read that book, I think you'll find it most interesting." He stepped out of the carriage leaving a startled Edward in his wake. Nothing better to do, Edward looked down at the cover of the book he was holding.

"101 uses for tea... Why on earth would I want to read this?" Edward pondered, smirking, ever so slightly. "Unless... of course... it's in code."

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_A/n: Feed a hungry authoress? -Kicks a box at her feet labelled 'will dance for reviews'-_

_P.S. This was written at 1 am. Be kind._


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